


Snow at 221B

by lookwhatiwrote



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 04:57:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5277548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookwhatiwrote/pseuds/lookwhatiwrote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous: For the writing prompt thing: 11 and 38 (Sherlock/reader?)</p><p>So, I was prompted on Tumblr by a lovely anon to write a Sherlock/reader fic which used: “Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!” and “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow at 221B

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first prompt so bear with me. I’m not very good at writing ‘reader’ fics but I thought I’d give it a go and I had a lot of fun doing so.

You ducked behind a tree, watching as a clump of freshly formed snow whizzed past you. It had been a struggle to even get Sherlock to set foot outside 221B when the first flakes had started falling but you’d been persistent and eventually, with a frustrated sigh, he’d agreed. It had been nice at first, the snow falling softly, the two of you just standing watching as Baker Street disappeared under a blanket of white. Then chaos had ensued.

You’d heard the sound of a window opening behind you but hadn’t really registered the noise as a threat until the back of your head was covered with white powder. Looking back and up at the townhouse, you saw John leaning out of the window, a grin stretching across his cheeks.

“That was technically for Sherlock,” He called down, “But you’ll do, I suppose!”

You turned, feeling the cold snow melting down your neck and under your coat collar, scooping up a handful of the white powder and lobbed it back, narrowly missing John and splattering against the wall beside his head. Unfortunately, his next snowball wasn’t as inaccurate as yours had been and more snow stuck to your hair and coat.

Sherlock had been standing off to the side, underneath the Speedy’s Diner awning, keeping out of the way. You’d noticed him step back but was sure that he was keeping an eye on the proceedings. Up in the window, out of Sherlock’s view, John grinned and nodded towards where the detective was standing. The message was clear: throw one at Sherlock. 

You thought you were being subtle as you stooped down and picked up another handful, careful to keep your eyes on John. But, as you turned to surprise Sherlock, his deep voice cut through the air.

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-,” 

You’d frozen when you’d heard the voice but, as he spoke, you took advantage of his distraction and chucked it anyway. The look on the detective’s face was priceless as he stood, stock still, snow sliding off his coat collar and down his scarf. You burst out laughing and, from the window above you, so did John. That laugh turned into a squeak of terror as you watched Sherlock wipe the snow from his shoulders and step towards you.

You dashed up the snow covered pavement back towards the door of 221 Baker Street but the icy surface of the road threw you off and you found yourself tumbling towards the ground. You winced, waiting for the impact against the cold, hard ground but it never came.

Sherlock had been closer behind you than you thought and as you fell, it was right into his arms. You blushed, face turning bright red as you stared up at the man. Now that he’d stepped out from under the cover, the snow was sticking to his curly black hair and hovering on his eyelashes. Above you, the window closed and John disappeared, leaving you alone with Sherlock.

“You fell…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

His deductive powers, as shrewd as ever, were too close to the truth. Although he’d spoken in jest he’d hit far too close to home. In all the time you’d been staying in 221A, you’d harboured what you’d thought was a secret crush on the detective. You had watched as clients had given away their secrets through absent gestures and behaviours and resolved to school your own when you were around Sherlock. You’d thought it had worked.

Sherlock was staring down at you confusedly but you couldn’t make eye contact as he helped you to your feet. You walked back to the door together in silence but, before you could push it open, Sherlock stopped you with a hand on your arm.

“I didn’t mean to offend.” 

You were so in shock at him apologising for anything that it took you a second to work out what he said and when you did you couldn’t keep the smile from your face. He hadn’t guessed. He still didn’t know. Here was your opening. 

“You didn’t offend me. It’s just true.”

You watched in amazement as Sherlock blushed, his cheeks lighting up with colour. Neither of you spoke or moved from the step for a second and you were just getting nervous that maybe you’d overstepped when Sherlock’s voice broke through your nerves.

“Good. I thought I’d worked out what you were hiding. Dinner?”

Laughing, you nodded your head. Before you knew it, Sherlock had pressed a kiss to your cold cheek and ushered you into the flat.


End file.
